


mountain and the sea

by PinkHydrangea



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 07:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12008346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkHydrangea/pseuds/PinkHydrangea
Summary: a collection of tatizeke drabbles.Latest chapter: He's an affectionate drunk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just a.... YOU KNOW... ANOTHER TATIZEKE THING LMAO.... but basically this is just a place for things that are, like, too short or insignificant for me to want to publish individually, scraps from my tumblr, little things like that.
> 
> ALSO i recently made a tatizeke discord server!! you can check out my blog, linked in my profile, and find it if you want to come hang out

Zeke enjoys waking up, and it probably has something to do with the fact that it’s easy for him. He’s a heavy sleeper, but he always wakes up at the exact same time, and never spends any time lingering against the pillows. He gets up, splashes water on his face, washes his hair, and gets dressed. After that, he goes to the stables, gets his horse, and takes him for a graze in the moors right outside the village.

It’s simple, it’s consistent, it’s a pattern that is reassuring to have.

He also likes waking up because it means he gets to see Tatiana. She wakes up a little later than him, coming out of her room with her hair all matted on one side, and her nightgown kinda sliding down one shoulder. Her sweet eyes are still bleary with sleep, and she hides her yawns behind her soft fingers. Zeke likes watching her while she goes to the chapel, before she’s even dressed, to kneel at the altar. She is quiet and lovely, placing her staff over her lap in tradition, and the edges of her hair sweep against the hardwood floors while she prays.

After that, Tatiana gets up, smiles at him, calls him darling and sweetheart and all her other cute little names, and gets ready for the day. She goes back to her room, spends a while in there, and comes out looking more radiant than the sun. Her hair is perfectly brushed, her lips painted a supple pink, and her dress clean and spotless. She gives him a friendly pat on his cheek, brushes his hair from his eyes, and goes to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Tatiana is an angel in disguise, and he longs for her.

Zeke likes waking up even more when he has her, when she has kissed him and they have clearly stated their romantic intentions. He likes it even more because they go to sleep together instead of in separate rooms, all curled up underneath a single blanket and listening to the other’s beating heart.

He likes when they sleep together, because they get close. Zeke normally sleeps on his back, shuts his eyes, and is out like a light, but it’s different with Tatiana. Sleep is more relaxing. She scoots close to him in the bed, stretches out her arms, and waits for him to take her and pull her close to him. She always throws her arms around his neck, snuggles her face into the crook of his neck, and tangles their legs together.

Zeke likes waking up that way, with the morning light streaming in through their window. It casts a glow upon her, still pressed up against him. She looks angelic, her seafoam hair gleaming in the light, the already soft features of her face made more delicate in the way it hits her. Her breathing is slow and sweet, her chest rising and falling slowly, and her eyelids twitch just so, as though she is still lost in some dream.

He often wonders what Tatiana dreams of, but is too embarrassed to ask such a sappy, invasive question.

He lies there for a while, every morning, while he waits for her to awaken. If he so much as takes too deep of a breath, she’ll stir, and he doesn’t want that. He wants sweet Tatiana to sleep for as long as she can, before she has to get up and attend to her chores and housekeeping.

And when she wakes up, she is divine. She stretches a little before she opens her eyes, her back arching languidly like she is a sleepy housecat, and shifts around. Their legs tangle up a little more, and she squeezes him tighter. Her eyes drift open blearily, uncomprehending of the world in these first stages of being awake, and he kisses her forehead.

It’s like clockwork, every morning: Tatiana lifts a hand from his neck and brushes the back of it along his cheek, a sleepy smile on her face, and rests her head against the pillows. Her touch is softer than normal in the morning, feather-light and soothing, better than anything else. He lets his eyes drift shut while she caresses him and runs a hand over her waist.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she says.

“I’ve been awake for thirty minutes,” Zeke grumbles.

Tatiana laughs and taps his lips with one finger. “But you’re still tired. I can tell. Go back to sleep.”

“Work,” he replies.

“Let them ride out here, if they need you so badly,” she protests. “You always wake up so early. Go back to sleep.”

Zeke likes waking up like this, with someone to care for him and look after his well-being where he does not. He often worries that he does nothing in turn, that he’s allowing himself to be spoiled relentlessly by this goddess without giving her tribute. He spends much of the time between when he wakes up to when she does wondering what he can do for her: Bring home an armful of flowers, a new bolt of nice fabric, an interesting book. He tries doing his own chores around the house, but the last time he washed the quilts, he’d nearly and inexplicably ruined one beyond repair.

He sighs as she reaches a hand into his hair and scritches behind his ears, as though he’s a cat in need of calming. Tatiana’s got a sweet smile, pretty eyes, and a cute voice, and he finds himself unable to resist her temptations. He lays his head into her lap when she kneels against the headboard, shuts his eyes, and falls asleep again while she plays with the hair in his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the sov tag has been dead for like a week, here's some tatizeke i've had written for like a month that i wrote bc i love the idea of Tatiana loving Zeke no matter how he looks EVEN IF HE FEELS DUMB SHE LOVES HIM AND CLINGS TO HIM AND LOVES HIM SO MUCH I CAN'T EXPRESS THE LOVE

Zeke taps his foot against the ground, his arms crossed, and his eyebrow twitching as he glowers at the luggage scattered about the campsite. A few soldiers are shifting through it sheepishly, but their lips are twitching in rather amused fashions.

He clears his throat and glares down at a soldier. “So, what you mean to tell me is that camp was raided by bandits, our luggage was gone through, and yet-”

She gives a sheepish laugh. “Well, this obviously wasn’t a slow, thorough job. They probably got here right before we got back, so they just rummaged, tossed some things around, and grabbed what they could.”

“And all they could grab were such useless things?” Zeke marvels. “I suppose they did take some personal belongings, but still.” He crouches down next to his men, flipping over the overturned items. “How truly unfortunate for them. They left all this food, all the tents, all of these supplies, and instead they grabbed-”

“Hygiene products,” a bow knight says, and he chokes back a laugh. “Oh gods, I wish I could see their lousy faces when they find out that’s all they grabbed! Imagine, thinking you’ve nabbed something good, and it’s just-”

“My shaving equipment,” Zeke mutters as he fails to find his own bag. He rubs at his jaw. “Hm.”

The soldiers stand awkwardly, their laughter suddenly nowhere to be found. 

“D-don’t you worry, General, we’ll be back home in a few days. Little scruff never killed anyone, sir.”

Five days until they get back to the plains, Zeke knows, and he sighs.

* * *

 

Five days of travel passes by slowly, and Zeke is relieved to finally ride back into the village. The weather outside is a little lousy, and he’s grateful that there aren’t that many people milling about in the road. He does his best to keep his head down, attempting to look as small and unnoticeable as possible while astride his horse. His jaw is scratchy, an uncomfortable amount of scruff having grown, and he’s embarrassed to let anyone see.

He sets up his horse in the stables, glaring at the stablehand when his eyes obviously flicker to his jaw and his mouth opens. The young man walks away wordlessly, whistling loudly.

He rubs at his jaw once more, excited at the prospect of shaving once he gets into the house, and opens the door. Zeke wonders if he can get past Tatiana, whom he can hear in the room over, without drawing her attention. He’ll be quiet, he decides, and he’ll sneak into the washroom as quietly as he can.

He’s gotten pretty far––so close!––and then he hears an eager voice behind him. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re back! Why didn’t you come say hello?”

Zeke jolts, raises a hand to cover his mouth, and sighs. “No reason.”

Her voice turns concerned. “Is something wrong? Are you hurt? What's the matter?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he says sharply, but it doesn't stop her from reaching for him.

“Take off your clothes, let me look.”

“It's nothing,” he says more insistently, and then he sighs and lowers his hand. He slowly turns around, rubbing the back of his head. “I know I’m a little scruffy, but I’m going to shave now, promi-”

He sighs, again, at the sight of Tatiana’s sparkling eyes. Her hands are clasped together, close to her chest, but she throws them out immediately to put them on his shoulders.

“You look so cute!” she gasps.

“Tatiana, no-”

“Ooohhh, you're so cute!” She leans up while pulling him down, pressing a quick kiss against his lips. “You look so weird and scruffy!”

“That doesn't make me feel better,” he mumbles. He pulls her arms away from him, exasperated at the endless torrent of kisses she gives his face. “My shaving supplies were stolen on the road. I’m going to go shave now.”

A breathless gasp comes from Tatiana, and she wraps her arms around him as he turns. “No! No no no no! You're so ruggedly handsome like this! Please! Please please please  _ please _ .”

“It's uncomfortable, Tatiana,” he tells her. He takes a step forward easily, but she doesn't let go. “Just let me go now, okay?”

Her grip tightens. “No! Pleeeeease? Just keep it for a little while? Please? You're so handsome like this, I’m swooning!”

Zeke shakes his head. “I'm shaving.”

Tatiana lets go suddenly, throwing her arms down at her sides and tossing her head. “Well, fine, go ahead. But I know who's not getting any love or affection tonight.”

Zeke freezes in his tracks, turning his head towards her. “You wouldn't.”

She crosses her arms. “Hmph. Maybe I’ll go sleep at the church tonight. And tomorrow night. And the night after that as well. And you won't get so much as a kiss from me, sir.”

“T-Tatiana, my sweet, I’ve been gone for almost two weeks. Would you really do that?”

She spins on her heel, whirling away from him. “I’ve got more discipline than you know. Don't expect me to come back crying, Ezekiel. In fact, I bet you’re the one who’s gonna come begging.”

He turns bright red, because he knows that she isn’t really that  _ wrong _ , and grabs her shoulder. “Wait, wait, fine! I’ll keep it!”

Tatiana spins back around as quickly as she’d spun away. “Really?”

He mumbles and sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “For a night, do you understand? Just one night.”

* * *

 

Tatiana showers him in enough love that night that Zeke actually considers keeping the scruff, maybe for just another day. Or two. Maybe even three, he muses as she kisses him for the umpteenth time that evening. But no more than three. He’d quite possibly go insane.

He threads his fingers through her hair as she rests her hands on his face, moving her affections from his lips to give his nose a quick peck. A content hum leaves her, and she strokes her thumbs along the line of his jaw.

“You’ve seen me unshaven before,” he says.

“Yeah, when you wake up and only have a little stubble right before you shave. That’s no big deal at all.” Tatiana removes her hands from his face and props her head up on them. “This makes you look much cuter.”

“I see. Well, I’m glad that you enjoy it. I certainly don’t.”

Her lips turn up in a sweet smile, and then she looks as though she’s realized something. “Oh, wait! I guess while I was healing you, you got all scruffy. You were out for almost a whole week, so it got even longer than what you have here.”

“So this shouldn’t be such a luxury for you,” he says. He makes a move to get out of the bed. “I’m shaving.”

Tatiana grabs him in the blink of an eye. “No, no! When you were scruffy then, you didn’t look handsome at all. I mean, you were bleeding all over the place, and you were so pale and sweaty.” She shudders thinking about it. “You looked more like a vagabond. You’re all healthy now, so you look so handsome and cool.”

He shifts back closer to her and sighs as she kisses him again. “I’ll never understand your fascination with me.”

She pulls back and lifts an eyebrow. “You mean, beyond the fact that you’re a foreign stranger who washed up on my beach in the middle of nowhere? You’re right, that’s not something to be fascinated by at all.”

Zeke laughs and wraps an arm around her waist as she leans in again. “Beyond that, I mean. I’m not really that interesting, or anything special.”

She glares at him suddenly, grabbing his face in both hands and squishing. “Nonsense! You are the most interesting, special man in the entire world, and I won’t hear otherwise.”

“But-”

She squeezes his face harder. “No! You’re smart and kind, and you always take care of me and make me feel safe. I think that’s special.”

He frowns and rubs her bare skin. “What monster would not protect you?”

Tatiana smiles and presses her lips against his eyelid. “I know, I’m just  _ so _ sweet and wonderful.”

He can’t help himself from smiling as she continues to shower his face with affection. “You say that sarcastically, when it’s true.”

A giggle escapes Tatiana, and she returns her affections to his lips. Her touch is soft and delicate, comforting in the best of ways, and Zeke finds his self-control slowly slipping out of his fingers. She squeals with delight when he pulls her down atop him and pins her to the bed.

* * *

 

“...”

“...”

“Tatiana?”

“What?”

“Could you not cling to me while I’m shaving, darling?”

“But-”

“And could you also not sniffle like that? It’s disorienting.”

“But your handsome scruff is gone.”

“Yes, but- but don’t cry. I’m handsome when I don’t look like an unwashed ruffian, aren’t I?”

“Hmmm.”

“Tatiana!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im hungry but instead of getting food im publishing tatizekes.... of course

The stranger is handsome, even though he is pale and sweaty and scruffy. Tatiana has spent a lot of time sitting next to him in the past week, waiting for him to open his eyes, and so she’s had a lot of time to look at him. She thinks that if he were clean-shaven, had some color in him, was a little less sweaty, and had a good, long bath, he’d be the picture of beauty. He’s got a strong jaw, a straight nose, and his bone structure is impeccable. Not to mention his hair is the color of the sun, all fluffy and gold and soft.

She tries to keep him in good condition, taking care to wipe the sweat away, wash his hair as best she can with him still in the bed. She contemplates trying to give him a shave one day, doesn’t trust her clumsy hands, and asks a priest with nothing else to do if he’ll help her out. It takes a while, with Tatiana flitting over her patient, worried that the razor will nick him, but the job finally gets done.

Beneath that mess, _gods_ , he is even more gorgeous than she thought a person could ever be. He’s still pale and gaunt, looking like he just came walking back from Death’s own door after having a cup of coffee and staying for a chat, but Tatiana has simply never seen a more perfect man in her entire life.

He looks like someone out of one of the storybooks she reads to the children; not a prince, not a noble, but a knight. A tall, dashing, gallant knight, the kind who saves princesses and fights dragons, the kind who always does the right thing. He looks like a knight who rides with kings and inspires good in people. She can see it, in the curve of his jaw, the shape of his eyes.

Tatiana knows, before he is even awake, what kind of person this man is.

Tatiana isn’t the only one who seems to think he’s got stellar good looks, because she’s got people coming around to get a glance at him. She’s got the sisters coming by, using the excuse that they’re restocking the medicine cabinet, but she knows they’re just trying to peer at him. She’s got people trying to look in through the open windows (she has to slam them shut and draw the curtains, and it only serves to make her neighbors laugh).

She knows he’s handsome, but he’s also dying, and deserves at least a little peace.

It gets especially ridiculous when she’s gotta start chasing them out with a broom.

She’s coming back from bathing, which she has only done at another sister’s insistence. She’s a little more relaxed than she has been in a couple of days, feels confident with the upward turn of the man’s condition, and is humming very cheerily as she comes back down the hallway.

And then, Tatiana hears giggling, and her mood instantly sours when she sees a gaggle of her friends at the door to the infirmary. They’re leaning in with their fingers pressed to their lips as they talk to each other, and she storms over with her hands on her hips.

“What are you doing?” she demands.

One of them looks to her. “Oh, Tatiana! Evenin’. Just having a look at your catch. That’s one big fish you hauled in.”

She frowns. “Don’t you tease me. Come on, get out of here. Just because he’s comatose doesn’t mean you get to gawk.”

A chorus of “awwww”s comes from the collection of friends, but they don’t really take her seriously when she tries to shoo them away.

“He’s handsome,” one sighs.

“He’s a mess, but cute,” another agrees.

“Out!” Tatiana says a little more insistently.

“They don’t make ‘em like that any more,” someone else says, and she gives a low whistle.

Tatiana snaps, grabs a broom leaning against the wall, and starts waving it at them. “Out! Out of my home! Git, git! You’re all married, the lot of you!”

They all squeal with delight and laughter as Tatiana threateningly shoos them away with the broom. Even when she whacks one with the bristles, she only titters with amusement. Eventually, with a few waves and a couple more cries of “Leave my home!,” all her nosey onlookers are gone, and she takes a sigh at the peace and quiet.

The stranger is as peaceful as when she left him. He’s still pale, and his eyelids flutter like he is dreaming. Sometimes his limbs will twitch, like he’s struggling to wake up, but he is still now, resting and healing. Tatiana smooths the bangs out of his face, strokes her fingers along his jaw, before she takes a seat on the stool next to his bed.

She can’t wait to know his name.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they like to Kiss. all the time. they're in love and they smooch

Zeke winds up on the couch when he should be leaving for work, lying on his back while his lover straddles him, her hands fisted into the fabric of his coat. He’s gotten all ready for work: Pristine, groomed, professional as he always is, but now, he’s a mess. She’s opened up his coat, waistcoat, and practically torn his shirt open to get at his chest. His trousers are probably all creased from the way he's lying down, and his coat is going to pick up lint as the edge of it sweeps along their floors.

Tatiana’s lips press against his neck, right below his jaw, and drag down towards his chest. She looks perfect, dressed in a simple frock and apron with her hair pulled back, but her skirts are probably getting wrinkled, though. That’s not such a big deal; it’s not like she has to go and conduct meetings, train soldiers, represent Rigel’s finest. Unless she’s conducting a service at the church, Tatiana could wear a rag if she wanted, and that would be just fine.

Zeke thinks about how people might look down their noses at him if he looks too rumpled, then grunts as Tatiana nips at his skin. Her hands lets go of his coat and spread over his bare skin, and she looks calm and peaceful as she casually makes a mess of him.

“Could we not have done this in our bed?” Zeke chokes out. “When we woke up?”

Tatiana pulls her lips off of his chest, staring up at him with curious eyes. “Do you not like the couch?”

He swallows as her lips latch onto his neck and lets out a gasp. “N-no, I mean, it’s fine, but- but couldn’t we have done this before I got dressed and ready for work?”

She kisses his throat with vigor, dragging her teeth along the skin. “You can get dressed again.”

“I have to leave soon,” he breathes. “You should get off.”

Tatiana drags the tip of her tongue below his jawline in response, giggling when he rests a hand on her lower back. “I don’t think you really want me to, dearest.”

Zeke stiffens as she buries her teeth into his neck, wincing at the quick sear of pain that dissolves into pleasure. “N-no.”

“Lie back,” she croons, her fingers rubbing his exposed chest. “I’ll get you relaxed before you go to work.”

Tatiana does things that get him the very opposite of relaxed, but he refuses to complain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh this one is longer than the others, my policy on throwing drabbles here is that they have to be 2 pages or less, but this isn't really coherent or neat enough to publish as a standalone so HERE WE ARE, Zeke has a lot of bad days and a lot of Anxiety about his wife and her wellbeing
> 
> again, not super edited or coherent, just mmmm something i had in my files that i was like "ok i can publish this and get rid of it"

It’s been a bad day.

Worse than a bad day. An awful day. A terrible day that had started with a slight squabble with Tatiana; nothing major or enough to promote raised voices, just an exasperated, “You didn’t clean the kitchen like I asked!,” a hasty, “I know, I know, I’ll do it tonight, sweetheart,” and a pouty, “I’ll already have it done by then, just-  _ ugh, _ just don’t worry about it.” She hadn’t even sent him off with a typical kiss or any sweet, “Have a wonderful day at work!”s.

After that, about halfway to the military base, Ephraim sprained his fetlock. The poor boy whimpered even after Zeke dismounted him, occasionally whinnying in pain the entire rest of the way. It was a very unpleasant hour long walk when it should’ve been an easy fifteen minute ride, but the distance and trying to urge the wounded horse along dragged it out far too long. Because of it, of course Zeke received an earful from Jerome about how he cannot afford to be late, and how he inconvenienced everyone, nag nag nag nag nag.

Barely an hour later, a medic told him that Ephraim likely wouldn’t be up to ride for another week at the least. And, of course, because Jerome doesn’t  _ ever _ have anything else productive to do with his time, he’d come out to the stables and mocked him for pushing his steed so hard that he’d “broken the damn thing.” Zeke had let his tongue slip and made an unwise comment about how, “Yes, he did get pushed too hard, and that’s because you don’t pull any weight around here, we do.”

That had gotten him screamed at.

And then, things went smoothly for a couple of hours, up until an important report went missing. The one who had misplaced it during filing was a younger recruit, a young girl of sixteen who normally does such good and pristine work that Zeke couldn’t find himself to get mad at her, especially not while she cried a little over her one blunder. Then, in the middle of searching the file room for the document, someone had burst in with a report that a patrol had engaged with a roaming group of bandits and required assistance.

Fighting on the back of a horse you have no bond or connection with, no matter how well it is trained, is always a little tricky. Zeke had taken the best spare horse, however, grabbed a silver lance, and gone by himself. The fight had been a little clumsy on the back of an unfamiliar mount, but the thugs were cut beneath his lance, one by one, fairly easily.

All well and fine, up until the point where one of his men took a sword through the stomach.

Zeke decapitated the riff raff responsible for it easily; one clean stroke, fueled with panic and rage, sent the barbarian’s head rolling through the grass. The rest of the thugs surrendered quickly after that, throwing down their weapons in fear, and he’d left the arrests and punishments to the squad leader while helping the military cleric on duty try to patch the man up. Even she looked a little white while patching him back together, clearly unnerved by the sight of his innards.

“We haven’t had an injury this bad in so long,” she’d said quietly while healing. “You normally protect us so well.”

The comment clearly hadn’t been meant to cut Zeke so deeply. It was just a little remark, made in her shock and panic, but it struck him as badly as any blow the bandits had landed.

And, bless the Father, the cleric had managed to stabilize the man enough to transport him back to the base, where a team worked on him for two hours and twenty-eight minutes, every second of which Zeke counted on his pocket watch while trying to do desk work. A cleric came to get him, telling him that the man was alive, yes, but awfully wounded and comatose for the foreseeable future.

The worst, just the worst part of the day, however, wasn’t his horse, wasn’t the shouting, wasn’t the lost report, and wasn’t even his subordinate getting skewered. At least the man had survived, however narrowly. No, the worst part of the day was walking into the room to check on the poor man personally, only to be followed closely by his tearful, pregnant wife, fetched from their village to come to his bedside. The worst part of Zeke’s day, out of everything, was watching her collapse to her knees next to the bed, sobbing her eyes out, unable to be consoled.

Zeke hates those situations most of all, because to him, there’s nothing worse than a crying civilian, particularly when they are a woman or a child. It simply tugs on his heartstrings, because he’s softer than he wants to admit. It’s even worse when the woman is sobbing over her husband that he could have  _ protected, _ had he been astride Ephraim and at his best. It’s was heartbreaking to watch the clerics assure her that her husband would be fine, eventually, that he was just going to be asleep for a while, only for her to wail louder.

She was young. Twenty. Tatiana’s age.

It was all the worse when he’d escorted her back to her village for the evening, profusely apologized for the situation, and been told in a small, quivering voice, “It wasn’t your fault at all. Thank you for caring about my husband, sir. He’s all that I love.”

A punch right to the gut, because Zeke still, as he rides home atop a horse that isn’t Ephraim, feels as though it’s his fault. He plays the scene over and over in his mind. He was right next to him when he was skewered. He’d seen the bandit coming. If he’d had Ephraim, not some unfamiliar horse he’d never ridden before, he could have moved in time. If his reflexes had been faster, his reach a little longer, maybe he could have prevented it. His only comfort now is that the bandit’s head and body are probably being picked at by birds, and that the soldier will be fine in due time.

Zeke wonders, as he sets up the unfamiliar horse in the stable, if the man will be well in time for the birth of his child, or if he’ll still be in pain and agony. If he isn’t better, that’s just Zeke’s fault, and he knows it.

He goes through the door, defeated, pride wounded, and spirit nearly crushed. He shuts it behind him silently, unable to raise his head even when Tatiana comes from the back of the house, the little spat earlier in the day forgotten as she says, “Hello, my love! How was your day? You’re home so late; let me do something for you.”

He grumbles and starts to fumble with the ties of his coat, and that is his only reply to her offer.

Tatiana walks up to him, smiling softly and saying, “You look so tired. Let me do that for you, sweetie,” while she undoes the clasps and buttons. She slides it off of his shoulders, humming something soft, and he can do nothing but stare down at her. The weeping of the soldier’s wife is ringing in his head, louder than ever as he looks to his own lover.

She is clearly confused at his lack of energy, but she doesn’t comment on it. As she hangs the coat up by the door and smooths out the creases, she sheepishly says, “Sorry for getting a little worked up this morning over something so silly. That must have been an awful start to your day. Would you let me make it up to you?”

Zeke lifts his hands and runs them over his face while he walks over to the couch. “Mm.”

Tatiana hovers a polite distance, regarding him curiously. She approaches cautiously as he sits down heavily, a tilt to her head as she watches his shoulders slump. “Ezekiel? What do you want, my love? I can make a meal. I can heat up some water for a hot bath.”

He sees blood when he shuts his eyes, but can’t bring himself to open them and look at Tatiana. He gives up, flops down on his side, and turns so he is facing the back of the couch. She doesn’t say anything in reply to his uncharacteristic display of exhaustion, but the way she stands near him says that her offer still stands, and she’s waiting for him to ask her to do something.

“My Ezekiel,” she whispers softly.  _ “Zvezda moya. _ What do you need?”

Zeke doesn’t look up or open his eyes. He only raises a hand up and weakly says, “Come here, sweet one.”

Tatiana moves towards him, sitting on the couch just by his head. She is silent, and all he can hear is the faint sound of the ocean crashing on the shore and the ticking of the grandfather clock. Slowly, she reaches over, and he feels her fingers pulling strands of hair out of his face, though they just fall back into his eyes.

“Bad day?” she asks. “I’m sorry.”

Bad day. An understatement.

Zeke murmurs, “Closer, Tatiana,” and sits up on the couch. She shifts next to him, scooting closer as he leans down. She reaches up, buries a hand in his hair, and pulls him to her chest. He takes a deep sigh as he rests his head against her breasts and soaks in the warmth. Tatiana holds him to her with one hand, the other stroking his hair, and rests her cheek on the top of his head.

“What happened?” she asks quietly, in a voice barely louder than a hush. “Why so solemn?”

Horrible sobbing just keeps going through his head. He moves from her chest to her lap, resting on her soft thighs. She’s comfortable to lie upon, as soft as a down pillow. There could be nothing more reassuring in that moment than her hands resting on his head, sweetly trying to stroke away any and all of his worries. He rests there, trying to put the day’s events out of his mind as she pets him over and over.

Yet, Zeke tells her, in a hushed voice, about what happened, from Ephraim to the sobbing woman, and she listens in silence. Her fingers race through his hair. She lightly scratches behind his ear, a spot that he likes. She doesn’t ever interrupt him or ask any questions. She just waits until he is done, scratches and pets him a while longer, like she’s tending to a housecat. When he finishes, a few minutes pass before she even says anything.

“None of that was your fault,” Tatiana says. “Especially not what happened to that man. And he’ll be fine in any case; what’s the problem?”

There really is no long-lasting problem. She’s right. Zeke grunts at it, however, and pushes his face against her stomach. She keeps scratching him slowly, moving her fingers to play with his hair.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she says. “I don’t want you to worry about anything.”

“Don’t want me to worry?” Zeke grumbles against her. “I’m past that point.”

“Now, now.” Tatiana continues to stroke him. She lays her head down against his arm. “It was just one bad day. The soldier is fine. His wife is… dismayed, but she’ll be fine as well. Why don’t we get you something to eat, get you all cleaned up, and then go to sleep? Hm?”

She jostles him a little, but he presses against her. “No. Just let me stay here.”

Her hands fall upon him again, so kind and gentle. “Here?”

“Just here. For a few moments longer. That’s all I need.” When Zeke catches her scent, she smells a little like fresh bread and herbs; relaxing and calm. “A few moments is all.”

She strokes his body soothingly. “Well, if that’s all you want. Just rest your head, my love. I’m here for you. I hope you don’t keep worrying about today.”

Zeke glances up at her. Tatiana looks peaceful, smiling and content. He looks away, shuts his eyes, and enjoys the softness of her thighs and belly. The dismayed wailing of the woman doesn’t leave his mind, and he really doesn’t know how to tell Tatiana that the woman was her age, and that that was what really made it so awful. That he saw just the one similarity in them, and it had made him  _ afraid. _

He doesn’t know how to tell Tatiana that it has all made him scared that one day, it will be him lying in the bed, a sword in his gut, and she will be the one weeping at his bedside. He doesn’t know how to explain any of that, so he doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im uhhhh weak for Zeke snuggling against her.... Tatiana is soft and squishy, excellent for snuggles


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> considerably more light-hearted than the last thing i dumped here, I JUST WANT THEM TO SMOOCH A LOT and don't lie to me and try to say that Zeke isn't an affectionate drunk, he is, i know he is. this doesn't really have a coherent end because it's just something i threw onto a page because i wanted him to smooch her but i didn't know how i wanted it to end
> 
> (also, i start my new job in a couple of hours!! wish me luck!! im gonna die, but hopefully i can keep publishing tatizekes!!)

“Stop! Hey!”

When Zeke drinks alcohol, he doesn’t usually get drunk. He has an unnaturally high alcohol tolerance; Tatiana has seen him drink the many of the village’s best under the table with barely a flush on his face by the end. He might wobble a little when he stands from his seat and need someone to support him while he gets his balance back, but other than that, he’s no different from normal. For a while, she had almost been convinced that it was impossible for him to be anything but completely sober.

And then, after a competition with a traveling merchant had gotten too intense—the first drinking competition Tatiana has ever seen her lover lose—there had been the tell-tale flush on his cheeks, the slightly distant look in his eyes, the slurred speech. He wasn’t anything like rambunctious, however. None of the loudness that normally accompanies drunkenness, none of the stupidity, nothing like that. If anything, Zeke had been a little quieter than normal, only mumbling as she slung his arm over her shoulder and helped him home.

So, a stupid drunk? No. Angry drunk? Definitely not. Loud drunk? Never.

Affectionate? Ohhh, boy. Yeah.

He’d kissed her senseless the second she’d shut the door and hadn’t let her go for hours and hours. And then, in the morning, Zeke hadn’t seemed to be able to recall much of anything that had happened. Since then, though, Tatiana has always been okay with him maybe having an extra glass of wine, or perhaps going to have a drink with his soldiers after work, or something like that.

What can she say? She likes getting kissed a lot.

And, he’s drunk tonight. Score.

“Stop!” Tatiana squeaks. He has her pinned on the bed, hands drifting up over her sides, right where she is most ticklish. Zeke seems delighted by her laughter, rubbing his fingers again over the places that give him the best reactions. “Stop, stopstopstopstop!”

“Cute,” he murmurs before dipping his face into her neck. His breath spreads over her skin, hot and sweet with whatever ale he was drinking. “Cuuute.”

Tatiana gasps, desperately trying to breathe now that he’s stopped tickling her so much. His lips press against the soft skin of her neck in delicate caresses. He doesn’t kiss her neck hard and rough, the way he sometimes does when they’re in bed together; it’s slow and sweet. He drags his lips up from her neck to her jaw, kissing her there, just below her ear. She squirms in his grip, giggling as she wraps her arms around him.

“Stop fidgeting,” Zeke scolds lightly. “You’re so sensitive.”

He moves to kiss her cheeks, cupping her face in his hands. She smiles, but holds back her laughter as he goes about his idle kisses and casual affection. Ezekiel is affectionate normally, but in a much more controlled sort of way, with careful hand-holding and well-timed pecks on her cheek. Drunk Ezekiel, however, holds her a little tighter, kisses her without abandon, and practically melts against her. He hums and sighs with quiet delight when she pets his head or kisses him wherever she can reach, then returns the affection tenfold.

“Cute,” he says quietly as he brushes her bangs back.

“You’ve already said that,” she chides teasingly. “Is that the only word you know when you’re drunk?”

Zeke narrows his eyes, seemingly very annoyed, and then dips his face into her neck. She squeaks, then giggles, as he roughly kisses her there. His hands cup her neck, tilting her head at just the right angle so he can get at her better.

“Pretty,” he says next, so quiet that he’s barely audible.

“Now, there’s a little variety,” Tatiana teases gently.

Hands slide down her neck, over her shoulders, and then down the front of her body. He touches her sides again, but this time, it’s a firmer grip instead of one meant to tickle her. She still laughs regardless, holding him a little tighter when he moves lower to kiss near her collarbones. She hums and leans back against the pillows, gently rubbing him.

“Very beautiful,” he continues, pauses, and then admits, “And… there.  _ Those _ are all the words I can come up with when I’m intoxicated.”

“Excellent job,” she tells him. “Good boy.”

Zeke squeezes her waist tighter and moves his lips a little lower to the swell of the top of her chest. “Mm. Thank you.”

Another moment passes, and then he moves back up to her lips and starts his featherlight touches again. Tatiana thinks that he undoubtedly finds it’s hard to kiss her when she’s laughing, and he eventually gives up and settles for flopping down next to her, pulling her close, and sleeping the alcohol off.


End file.
